EDEN AWRY
by I Heart Edward Cullen
Summary: People always assume that the afterlife is a release. The bad guys get thrown in Hell for their just desserts, and the good guys get to spend the rest of eternity strumming harps atop fluffy little clouds and polishing their halos. Get real. WxM, VxM
1. Chapter 1

**EDEN AWRY**

- People always assume that the afterlife is a release. The bad guys get thrown in Hell for their just desserts, and the good guys get to spend the rest of eternity strumming harps atop fluffy little clouds and polishing their halos. Get real. It's just a continuation of the struggle. WxM, VxM–

Disclaimer: I do not own Trigun, any of it's characters, or it's plotlines. They are entirely the property of Yasuhiro Nightow-sama. However, I am currently scheming to acquire a pair of Vash sunglasses to wear with my Vash t-shirt (It has his wanted poster on the back!) in addition to my DVD box set and graphic novel collection. -

**Chapter 1: In Which There Are Many Uncomfortable Pauses**

Silence. It surrounded the small house, suffocating its inhabitants and resisting all attempts to maintain their usual facades and pretend that nothing had happened, that nothing had changed. As tangible as another person, as overbearing as a neat-freak mother-in-law, and as frightening as a stranger with a gun pressed to ones temple, it filled their days. Of the uncomfortable variety, more often than not. Its empty chasms terrified them, echoing of all that remained unsaid and that they were afraid to acknowledge. To admit was true. It followed their denial around like a mangy stray, unwanted and inescapable, and yet the inhabitants of the small house continued about their days, pretending it was not there and hoping it would go away on its own. It was a false hope.

The tall girl buried herself in manual labor, striving to forget the sense of loss that threatened to overwhelm her when she paused to think. She smiled too much. And when that failed to work, she left, seeking answers elsewhere. The short girl was all harsh words and bluster and business, the personification of brisk efficiency, refusing to stop and recognize what she was trying to ignore. The man put on a goofy grin and ate his donuts and wrestled with children when not picking up an odd job here or there, provoking his friends and joking. His façade was the most practiced of the three. And the remaining inhabitant slept upstairs, although they were all able to sense his presence bearing down on them. They felt uneasy for no real reason at all, their theoretical hackles rising at no discernable cause, every primal instinct telling them one thing. _Run._ But millions of years of ignoring those urges kept them resolutely going about their business, letting the silence do the talking.

It was the calm before the storm.

- - - - -

Meryl awoke to the smell of something _wonderful_. Still half asleep, she stumbled down the hallway of the one-story house from her bedroom, letting her nose lead her to the source of whatever was making her stomach growl so viciously. It turned out to be the source of all of the previous night's bad dreams. (Bloody dreams of death. Not pleasant fare at all.) Hence, the half-asleep-ed-ness. Who also happen to be cooking bacon and pancakes, as well as preparing coffee, his broad, bare back facing her as she clumsily took a seat on at the counter opposite him, atop on of the barstools. _God, I love this man. If only he knew. _Meryl then made the interesting discovery that she had balance issues this early in the morning as she was forced to grab the counter to prevent herself from falling right off of the other side of the rather unstable, narrow, butt-torturing slab of rotating wood and doweling.

Vash grinned widely as he set a plate in front of the short girl, her hair still mussed from sleep. Not that his was much better. For once his smile wasn't fake. He prepared his own food while she attacked her coffee, black, just the way she liked it. He really didn't see how she drank it that way, but hey, whatever worked. The man set his own plate down across from Meryl and looked on amused, until the short girl had become at least semi-comatose, which meant, of course, that her cup had been refilled 3 times in the past minute. He sipped his own mocha while she daintily started on her pancakes, in sharp contrast to the drinking frenzy that had taken place moments before. After a few moments he looked up from his mug, surprised to feel her gaze upon him.

"Is something wrong? Is the bacon too crispy, or something?"

She only looked at his bare chest intently, while the blond man turned a rather startling shade of red as he fought the urge to think too much about what was going through Meryl's head.

"I'm sorry. I should have put a shirt on or something-"

He despised those scars. Surely he was disgusting her. She finally met his eyes, a puzzled look on her face.

"How did you manage not to burn yourself? Surely that bacon splattered at least a little bit!"

While it ended, like many of their conversations, in awkward silence, at least this time it was punctuated by laughter. Neither could remember the last time they had laughed with one another.

- - - - -

The bus was quiet, all its passengers blissfully asleep, save for the occasional snore from the man in the 2nd to last row next to the window. But that wasn't even that bad. The poor lady that had had the misfortune of being assigned to sit next to him had sacrificed her handkerchief for a makeshift gag, much to everyone else's relief. And the man didn't really seem to notice. Except he drooled a bit more now.

At first glance, Millie was no exception. The tall girl luckily had her narrow bench to herself, and was sprawled across it, her dirty blonde hair spilling over her toiletry bag/pillow and her eyes closed. The bus rattled on, crossing the desert in its own slow way, its tire tracks stretching beyond the horizon behind it as the sun slowly crept into the sky, signaling the start of another day, setting the heavens afire.

_Nicholas, I wish you were here. That you could watch the sunrise too. With me._

The driver announced crackily over the intercom that the bus would be arriving in December in less than an hour.

_I'll take care of your orphanage. Sempai and Mr. Vash just need some time alone. They still haven't admitted how they feel to one another. And Mr. Knives could probably adjust easier with less people in the house. Not that I didn't want to go. I just wish I could do more for you._

- - - - -

"Insurance girl! I'm making a run into town! Is there anything you need!" Vash hollered into confines of the house.

"We need more bread! And mustard! And cat food! And don't just buy donuts- okay, Vash! Two boxes, tops! If you have extra!" Came the distant answer.

The man glowered, particularly at the black cat twining itself around his legs. "If you hadn't have showed up, I could buy more donuts, because I would have more money. Because I wouldn't be spending it on you." He sent a death glare in the cat's general direction.

The cat was unperturbed. No one can really beat a cat at glaring. As far as it was concerned, Vash was a terrible novice. Nothing to be afraid of. The cat Nyaa-ed innocently at him while it sharpened its claws on his leg.

Vash resisted kicking it and grabbed his leather knapsack, dusting off his white shirt and jeans in the process. "I don't expect Knives to wake up today- he got his sedatives this morning, right!"

"Of course! You'd have to be stupid to forget something like that!"

Vash glowered once more before he set off for the long walk into town. _She'll never let me live down that time after we took Kuroneko-_sama_ (thought with particular disdain) to the vet. It's not my fault he woke up partway there! And who woulda thunk that he could have clawed his way out of that cage!_

- - - - -

_These groceries are _heavy. _Why do I always have to do all the shopping?_ The now rather sweaty and dust caked man set his knapsack on the porch, ignoring the frantic protests of the aging supports at such weight. He fumbled in his pockets for his keys, smiling slightly at his keychain, a hand-beaded lizard made by the 8 year old boy from down the street, as he opened the lock. "Short girl! Groceries are here!" He threw open the door, making a dramatic gesture for his audience, eyes closed, arms extended, gesturing at the toils of his hard work. The eyelids slowly opened, aqua orbs peering about, until finally resting on the wall opposite the doorway.

YOU WILL SEE THE ERROR OF YOUR WAYS. Slashed viciously in the drywall by something sharp. And bloody.

His breath left him in a gasp, eyes going wide. _No. This can't be happening. Not again. This isn't how this is supposed to happen. Meryl, not Meryl, please-_

Vash followed the random marks carved in the walls at a run, as though someone had been swinging a knife, a _sharp_ knife, while they walked, like a young girl might swing a purse. Words appeared as random intervals, the cryptic messages crippling the gunslinger. He was sobbing, his heart ripped out, crushed, all hope lost before he even reached the final one, ripped in the wall of Knives' bedroom.

WHEN YOU HAVE NOTHING LEFT.

WHEN ALL YOU CHERISH IS DEAD AND GONE.

WHEN YOUR MEMORIES HAVE TORN YOU APART.

YOU SHALL SEE THAT HUMANS ARE NOTHING MORE THAN TRASH.

AND YOU SHALL COME BACK TO ME.

AND I SHALL HAVE NO MERCY.

YOU WILL SEE THE ERROR OF YOUR WAYS- _BROTHER_.

The final message was in Knives' own bedroom, where he had spent weeks sleeping after they had returned from their battle in the desert, drugged while they formulated a plan on what to do with him. The bed was neatly made, the white room (Knives had never like much color in his surroundings. Vash remembered this when decorating. Best to pick your battles.) completely in order. Except for the message, hacked into the wall like some garish decoration in bleak contrast to the order around it. Specks of plaster littered the wooden floor below it like snow. A petite white cloak lay neatly folded immediately in the center, the bow precisely retied.

It was covered in blood, _dripping _blood, as was the small handprint on the wall above it, the crimson fingerprints trailing along its surface, as though their owner had been dragged forcibly away. A single feather lay atop the cloak.

- - - - -

A/N: SOO! What do y'all think? This ones been rattling around my head for awhile, but I've given it a different beginning and rewritten it after my computer deleted it. I only had a chapter or two anyway. A Question of Incarnation will probably never be finished. I am terribly, terribly, terribly sorry about this, as it always bugs the hell out of me whenever an author stops in the middle of a story because they've lost interest in the original show or whatever. I am a hypocrite. Which I hate. But it's also not making me run out and watch Inuyasha again, as the show annoys me no end. And so I apologize profusely.

But. Eden Awry. Wolfwood (Ah! My favorite!) will be making an appearance next chapter, and playing an integral roll, as will Millie. And no, he is not coming back to life. Heh heh heh. Do you like the title? Review please! I cannot promise to update by a certain time, but I will as much as possible! Really, when taking classes a grade above your own you don't have much time. And 4-H. And horses. And friends. But my Trigun Otaku-dom will never flag, so no worries there! Is everyone in character? Is it clear that Meryl and Vash have really not had many easy conversations outside the one above, and are still quite uncomfortable with one another? Please tell me! Reviews make me more motivated! Review or die! Bwhahaha! Demonic pancakes with chocolate chips for good readers! -


	2. Chapter 2

**EDEN AWRY**

- People always assume that the afterlife is a release. The bad guys get thrown in Hell for their just desserts, and the good guys get to spend the rest of eternity strumming harps atop fluffy little clouds and polishing their halos. Get real. It's just a continuation of the struggle. WxM, VxM–

Disclaimer: I do not own Trigun, any of it's characters, or it's plotlines. They are entirely the property of Yasuhiro Nightow-sama. However, I am currently scheming to acquire a pair of Vash sunglasses to wear with my Vash t-shirt (It has his wanted poster on the back!) in addition to my DVD box set and graphic novel collection. -

**Chapter 2: In Which the Afterlife in Contemplated and **

**Other Unfortunate Things Happen**

The afterlife is not what one would expect. Envisioning an idyllic place, available only for those those have earned it and fully deserve it, perhaps it is a source of motivation. A reason to get up in the morning to face yet another day filled with toil. A reason to keep striving, to better oneself despite receiving no recognition for it, if one can only convince themselves that there is a reward waiting for them at the end of it all. This is no reward. I would give anything to be back on Gunsmoke, back among the blood and strife, where at least there was value to what I accomplished. There is no meaning here in this so called "Eden". I loathe it.

I suppose that to many that this place would be a welcome respite after life. No worries, no responsibilities, and virtually any item one could ever desire is instantly theirs. No more working to achieve what you desire, no expectations. But that was never what really mattered to me anyway. Everything that mattered is back on Gunsmoke.

I suppose this is my punishment. My final atonement for my sins. To be in Heaven and to be eternally wishing for what I cannot have here, this is worse than any Hell, real or imagined. However, I can never ask for anything more. My sins are far too heavy. The lives that I have taken, they weigh upon my soul. So many burdens. But it is my duty. I must give something up in return. Millie, Vash, Meryl, I so am sorry.

- - - - -

Wolfwood sat among the trees of the forest glen, his black suit blending with the shadows from the evergreens, silently smoking a cigarette that didn't smell to anyone besides him. The smoke spiraled upward, mixing with the branches and leaves, whispering in a small breeze that was only there when you wanted it to be. The forest was in stark contrast to the desert so many of it's inhabitants were used to, and many took to it with relief. Not this man. Further beyond his unmoving form stood a motorcycle, sparkling without the polish of any mortal hands, in perfect working order. Around the man's neck was a small silver cross, his reminder of the Cross Punisher he had carried for so long. His eyes were closed, in an almost meditative trance, as he leant against the tree, lost in his memories. There were few that were happy, but he felt that what little he had were vastly preferable to the place he was now.

Wolfwood knew a few people here. He had talked with Brad once or twice, but even after all was said and done, they still weren't on the best of terms. Civil, yes, but they certainly didn't enjoy the kind of rapport he had once had with Vash. Old habits die hard, even under the most extreme of circumstances.

Almost everyone he had once known he could not track down. Not that he really cared. His friends, fortunately, (_for them at least_, he thought selfishly) had not joined him in the great beyond. He had not seen anyone from his biological family since he was nine, and it was no big loss to be unable to contact them. He had always suspected that his parents would have preferred not to have children.

"A bloody accident. That's all I am. From my birth to my death, I have brought nothing but misfortune to those that were stupid enough to get close to me." He murmured under his breath, not opening his eyes. He had been over this many times since his death. Nothing held his interest. There was no one her that he cared about. Nothing. The afterlife held no interest for him, only remorse, but then, how could a dead man be depressed?

Dull eyes took in his fellow spirits as they went about their day. A young man sat by a stream, cradling a woman. Two middle age men wrestled playfully, thrashing about in the far off clearing like puppies. Several women chatted earnestly, sipping some sort of drink with miniature umbrellas. An old man slept in a comfortable bed, simply placed in the middle of the clearing, snoring not unpleasantly. Another couple fed one another a steak dinner. He thought he saw a child playing in some snow he had conjured up for himself, out of the corner of his eye, but when he turned to get a better look, both boy and snow were gone.

That was one unusual thing about this place. There were plenty of people here older than him, but he had only seen someone younger than himself on a few occasions, and as soon as he tried to start up a conversation, they disappeared. It was almost… as if they were frightened.

Nicholas gazed at his hands remorsefully, blood only he could see, slowly dripping from his fingertips, soaking his sleeves, puddling on the ground. _I **can't… Sorry…**Everyone… It would appear… I'm no longer **fit** to hold you guys… _

He had nothing left.

- - - - -

Millie arrived in December at about 1:00. It was a bright, sunshiny, day.

_I'll just go get something to eat. After all, it is lunch time!_

She didn't really feel like admitting that she wasn't quite ready to face Nicholas' orphanage.

It had been his motivation, his reason for going on. He wanted to keep that orphanage running. _"I do everything for the children. I guess it's my payment for my day job. Maybe they can grow up in a better world than I had to."_

Like everything he had done or said in the short time she had known him, it was an attempt at redemption. A man forced to play the devil, when all the while his heart cried out. Forced to grow up too quickly, thrust into a world than made even adults jump off buildings every day, he had lost his innocence far too soon, and then he had done everything in his power to prevent that from happening to anyone else. He was a kind, kind man.

No, there were too many memories of Nicholas to try and go there on anything less than a full stomach.

- - - - -

The woman slowly walked the streets of December, procrastinating just a bit more, savoring the can of pudding she had bought at the general store on the corner. _Vanilla is good. But chocolate is better. Or vanilla-chocolate swirl…_

Carefully depositing both the empty can and spoon in a trash can sometime later, she soon caught sight of the orphanage. It was a church on the edge of town, by no means large, but not small either. From what she understood, several Sisters took care of the children when Nicholas was away, but no one was outside at the moment. It was slightly rundown, but well cared for, the small garden weeded and filled with vegetables, clothes fluttering in the wind on the line out front. It reminded her a bit of home.

Millie carefully opened the gate, tracing the well-worn pathway to the door. She was somewhat surprised that no one had come out to greet her, as she had sent a letter just a week ago saying that she was coming. Stepping onto the doorstep, she smiled at the hand painted house number, decorated by a small handprint. _These children must be wonderful. No wonder Nicholas loved them so much._ She pushed the doorbell, listening to it echo throughout the house. It was a nice sound.

No one answered. Millie tried once more, waiting a bit longer. Still no one answered. _I guess I should just go in. I hope they don't find it rude. _She gave a small smile at how the door was unlocked, easily letting her into the foyer. _It would be so nice to feel that safe. To not have to lock your door._ "Hello! This is Millie Thompson! I sent you guys a letter about a week ago!" Her cry only came back at her, bouncing around the walls to no avail and no response. Venturing a bit farther into the church, she passed the children's dorms. The door to the girl's was covered in pictures of dolls and unicorns, the boys in cars and trucks. She smiled at how lovingly they had been cut out of their magazines, taped onto the door by so many little hands.

Hearing no sound from within, Millie kept walking.

After quite a while of searching, she found the church to be completely empty. The lunch dishes were partly cleared away, the ones put out to dry still damp. _Maybe the backyard?_

She turned to the heavy door leading to the back of the church. The knob was polished from much loving use, and turned easily in her hand. _My, it sure is heavy. It must be old to be made of such high-quality wood._ Then, it all faded into black.

- - - - -

The first thing she was aware of was the feeling of the gun pushed into her temple. The darkness, it was like a blanket, pressing down on her, numbing every sense. Except for the smell of the gunpowder, slicing through the comforting black, sending her heart into palpations. Opening her eyes, all she saw was red.

So many bodies. Children, the Sisters, all lying in pools of blood, viciously hacked into pieces. And in the middle of it all sat Meryl, tears running down her cheeks. Her cloak was missing, a small stream of crimson running down the side of her face, bound and tied, her wrists and ankles raw around the rope. As her Sempai sobbed, she saw that her back had been sliced, clear from her left shoulder to midway to her right hip.

"Sempai! Don't cry! Everything will be alright! I'll be fine. Not the first time we've been in situations like this- right?" She smiled, trying to ignore the gun, the blood, whoever was wielding it.

Meryl only shook her head, tears running down her cheeks. She looked up at whoever was standing beside her partner, eyes pleading. The black haired woman mouthed the words, "Please don't. _Please. Don't kill her."_ She repeated it over an over, the words jumbling together until her voice was raised to a loud whisper.

"Sempai? Everything will be okay!" She didn't believe it. But if Sempai could just pull herself together, maybe they could get out of this. She made one last attempt to smile. The gun shook on the side of her face.

The wielder's voice was filled with rage. "Don't you dare insult me, spider. You are a pawn, inferior, you cannot comprehend what is in store for you, for I, and I alone, control your fate. Now fulfill your ultimate purpose." He pulled the trigger. Millie fell to the floor. Meryl screamed. The voice laughed.

He walked over to Meryl's comatose form, grasping her chin and raising her eyes to meet his own. They were cold, despite the chuckle that threatened to escape from his lips. "Do not worry. There is no great honor for a spider like you than to be useful to superior beings like myself. She shall be remembered always, an example for all. She shall help your dear _Vash_ to see the error of his ways, and for that, she will not have died in vain." He smiled at Meryl, chilling her to the very core. She let herself drift back into unconsciousness, escaping those arctic blue eyes. But she knew they would be waiting when she awoke.

- - - - -

A/N: Oh ho! Dun Dun DDUUNNN! I'll ask once more, is everyone in character? Are you hooked? Surprised? Is this a total waste of my time? Review! Demonic steak dinners served by babbling brooks for those that do! If I had any demonic steak dinners served by babbling brooks. Which I don't. But still!


	3. Chapter 3

**EDEN AWRY**

- People always assume that the afterlife is a release. The bad guys get thrown in Hell for their just desserts, and the good guys get to spend the rest of eternity strumming harps atop fluffy little clouds and polishing their halos. Get real. It's just a continuation of the struggle. WxM, VxM–

Disclaimer: I do not own Trigun, any of it's characters, or it's plotlines. They are entirely the property of Yasuhiro Nightow-sama. However, I am currently scheming to acquire a pair of Vash sunglasses to wear with my Vash t-shirt (It has his wanted poster on the back!) in addition to my DVD box set and graphic novel collection. And Vash-kun keychain! That's of vital importance. - Or, this chapters mangled, obscure reference to some side-story in Laura Hillenbrand's Seabiscuit.

**Chapter 3: In Which There are More Fortunate Circumstances (Depending on Your Point of View), There is Much Contemplating, And a Fair Amount of Anger**

Wolfwood decided to live a little. Alright. That really wasn't the best colloquialism for the situation. But it had already been ascertained that old habits die hard, so give the poor guy a break. His butt had been getting a bit sore with all that sitting on rocks in unmoving contemplation. Against his best wishes, that small selfish part of his mind betrayed him, and his surroundings, catering to it, conjured up that navy blue, overstuffed, chenille armchair he had always wanted. Hell, it even had matching throw pillows.

_I'm being selfish. I do not deserve such comfort. This is atonement for my sins. I am in Heaven as my punishment, not to enjoy the luxuries it offers. _

But the chair beckoned.

_I am not worthy of enjoyment. My sins are too heavy._

It looked so soft… and squooshy… and fuzzy…

_What would Vash think if he saw me sitting in this thing? Yeah, it's navy blue, but it's **chenille. **_That was a sobering thought.

Oh, so fuzzy…

_I bet that damn cat would probably pop out of nowhere and claw up my leg. Physical limitations never seemed to stop it before._

Matching throw pillows…

_This is weakness. Human weakness. I must overcome it… _

Fluffy… overstuffed… it even smelled faintly of that fabric softener his mother used to use when he was a child.

He glanced over to his alternative. The rock glared at him. _You have a bony, boyish butt. Sit on something else that cares, _it seemed to say.

_Oh, to hell with it._

Once again, attack of the colloquialisms that no longer really worked. But he sat down nevertheless, settling into the plushness, savoring it. The chair even seemed to be heated.

What he wasn't expecting was what happened next.

- - - - -

_Damn it. Damn it all._ Unfortunate things seemed to happen to his friends. _Let's do a tally, shall we? One dead. One possibly dead, definitely kidnapped, and definitely in mortal danger. One, well, I don't know where the other one is._

Every fiber of Vash's being screamed for action. To run until he could run no more. Hijack a car and simply drive. To slug someone. Violence. The usually comforting weight at his hip was far too much a source of temptation. The loss of what little he had in this world, the one steady thing he could count on was slowly driving back the pacifist into a primitive, animalistic state. _El Diablo. _The devil, as he had once been called. _How appropriate. _

Everything about the gunslinger was intense. His skills, his generosity, his kindness, his forgiveness. Unfortunately, while he was slow to anger, once aroused it was not exempt.

Images of the short girl danced on the inside of his eyelids. That quiet night on the cliff. A pot of stew simmering on a stove. Asleep on the porch, novel falling from her grasp. The look on her face when he returned with his brother slung over his shoulder. Chasing him and yelling, the look on her face not unpleasant, both laughing. A box of donuts left on the counter after she declared he was on a diet. And in between what few pleasant memories he had had in his long life, the bloodied cloak flickered, mocking him. Mocking the mere thought that he could ever achieve happiness.

He slowly withdrew one of Meryl's derringers from his holster, regarding his tired face in its metallic surface. Distorted in the makeshift mirror, a monster, it's aqua eyes filled with unreleased rage, it stared back at him, it gaze unfearing and chilling him to his core. _A perfect metaphor. Everyone that touches me suffers. What else could I be? I'm certainly not human._

But no matter what he wished, what he longed to do, he could not.

Now was the time for logical thought. If he wished to even give Meryl a small chance, he had to figure out where Knives had taken her. She surely wouldn't have long. Knives knew Vash all too well. His brother would surely tire of her before long, and undoubtedly knew that even if he killed the woman Vash would simply change his aim from rescue to retribution.

What would it matter? It would simply be another tally on the long list of things the once inseparable twins had between them.

A pair of grey eyes laughed at him. Okay, maybe a mile of tally's. He didn't really feel like admitting how much this hurt. How deep the pain went. _It's all because of me. Meryl certainly doesn't deserve someone as dangerous, scarred… bloody, as me. I'm far too stained._ Knives knew exactly where to hit where it hurt.

And that thought frightened him more than anything else.

- - - - -

Meryl was swimming in the warm darkness. Although something faintly sinister about it scared her, it was also comforting. An escape. But all too soon she felt it receding, the bright lights piercing. The familiar pain came back, the slice that laid her back open, her wrists where the ropes were cutting into them.

She felt somewhat woozy and lightheaded. _I should probably be worried about this. I know I've lost a lot of blood. I've probably gone into shock. But my back doesn't hurt so much anymore…Silver lining to every cloud- right?_

Her captor was sitting primly across the room, scrowling at a spot of blood on his white suit. Noticing that she had awoken, he strolled over casually. _Feline. That's the word I'm looking for. Hungry._

"You're up. Good. We have things to discuss." He jerked her too her feet, leading her stumbling form over to the floor beside his chair, whereupon he let her collapse once more and he took his seat. Cool eyes regarded her own dull ones. "Now, why did you plead for that woman's life earlier?" He jerked his head towards the outside. She felt sick. _Millie…_ "You have absolutely nothing to bargain with. You are but a pawn at my disposal." He calmly regarded her, bending down until he was almost level with the short girl. "You amuse me. But careful, I may tire of you too quickly for your liking. I can almost see why my brother was so enamored with you. Almost. It does not make it any less sickening, however."

She spat in his face. His face contorted in rage, the spittle glistening in the afternoon sunlight. Fingers enclosed her neck, her back cracking nauseatingly as he swung her like a rag doll, tossing her against the far wall, the plaster crumbling around her form as she slid onto towards the ground, her blood flowing anew onto the floor. She felt her leg give way underneath her as she fell, with a crack like a gunshot.

"Vash! You see how worthless they are! You have been contaminated! I shall make you see error of your ways!"

The blackness crept into the edges of her vision once more. She fought it, trying to keep awake. _Not now dammit. If I pass out like this- I don't know if I'll wake up again…_Maniacal laughter flowed about her, filling the room, echoing and reechoing in the deathly stillness as he screamed his intentions to the corpses. _From before, it always seemed like there was a logical side to him, albeit a cruel one. He's no longer sane- is he? Vash, Vash, I need you… Help…_ "Vash… Knives… he's not the twin you once knew…" She murmured, and against her best wishes the darkness collapsed in upon her struggling mind once more.

- - - - -

Vash slammed about the house, utterly helpless. Gunsmoke, in comparison to some, was a rather small planet. But it was still far too large to search without a single clue and on a time limit. It was infuriating.

A small, weak voice echoed within the recesses of his mind. _Vash… Knives… he's not the twin you once knew…_ "Meryl?" He looked wildly about, knowing it was in vain.

Something drew him to the hallway closet. Throwing open the doors, he was shocked to find his old duster, blatantly hanging there like it had been there for months. _I left it out in the desert…_ His fingers stroked the tattered fabric haltingly, unwilling to believe that it was really there. But the threads were real enough beneath his fingers, as familiar as a second skin. The symbol of a past he wished he could have left behind. He shrugged it on, knowing what he would find.

Drawing the sandy gun out of the pocket, a small note fell to the floor. Picking it up with shaking fingers he read what it said.

**_Are you forgetting someone?_**

Millie.

- - - - -

Wolfwood had spent what felt like an eternity in his "heaven". Weeks, months, years, it was all the same to him. He would never be content there, and it was just as well.

_Millie will undoubtedly find some much nicer man, grow old with him and have a ton of kids. She deserves nothing less. And maybe when she passes on at a ripe, old age she could find it in her heart to forgive me for leaving her all alone. Just stop by once or twice and say a quick hello. That's all I can ever hope for. All I deserve. I told her I would come back… I broke my promise… Let her cry alone… **I** made her cry…_

Legends and tales always speak of those who have passed on watching those that they have left behind from afar, occasionally saving them from such things as runaway trucks or a pack of racehorses coming at you at a full run, or simply providing some ghostly comfort.

It's a vain hope. A comfort for those still living. If only they knew how much those like him suffered when they were unable to do so.

Imagine his surprise when the object of his abject longing literally fell right into his lap.

- - - - -

Vash would recall what happened later with great reluctance, even many, many years later. He wouldn't even speak of it until twenty years later, and only then to explain the honorable fate of his daughter's namesake.

_From a distance, December appeared totally normal. No smoking ruins, no giant craters, no rubble. It was simply a city, minding its own business. Vash surveyed it from a hill on the very outskirts, hiking from where the stolen car had run out of gas somewhere out in the desert. _Damn, this coat is so fargin' hot…

_The note had cleared everything up. He had only ever had a few things in the world that he cherished. Material possessions never really lasted all that long, so he tried not to get attached to them. They tended to get rather riddled with bullet holes rather quickly. He had no living family outside of Knives, and the other plants, he supposed. But he rather doubted that Knives' intention was to kill himself along with their sisters. That left the few humans he had ever let himself get close too._

If I really cherished them, I would have run off while they slept. See where it's gotten them? _None the less, they were his friends. He hated to say it. By that simple action, they had effectively doomed themselves. He had thought Wolfwood would be able to take care of himself. No, that was wrong. Wolfwood had been able to take care of himself. It was Vash's mistake._

_If he hadn't forced his own ideals upon him, he would still be alive right now. And Millie wouldn't have had to cry herself to sleep every night._

_Millie and Meryl could take care of themselves too. Once again, Vash had grown too trusting. Millie had taken a little piece of his heart, with her innocence and craftiness by turns. A truly good person. She would never let anyone down._

_And Meryl held a place all her own. He couldn't really deny it anymore. It felt as though ha piece of him had been physically ripped away when he found her cloak. Which, in fact, it had. He regretted more than anything that he had never told her._

_Just as well. If this is what happened to his **friends, **what about a **girlfriend?** Assuming Meryl would ever have him, of course. Which was a fairly big "If"._

_However, he was digressing, as was the author. Vash inspected December from the crest of the hill. The note had told him what he needed to know. Knives already had one of his friends, and one was already dead by his hand. That left Millie, who of course was in December, seeking to volunteer at Nicolas' orphanage._

_He was seeking to eliminate every human Vash had ever valued one by one. Rem had simply been the beginning._

_The gunslinger crept into the town, following the main street. He had been here once before. Meryl had dragged him here, showing him like some thomas to her boss, to prove she had in fact been doing her job. His errand was not near so jovial now. Entering the city via Main Street, he knew the town square was just around the corner. The city was deserted, but obviously recently so. Laundry still flapped in the breeze on the lines outside the houses. Vash ran to catch a cup of coffee on a porch railing that threatened to be knocked over by a pair of pajamas, carefully setting it a bit farther away. However, something caught his eye, floating in the now cold beverage._

_At first glance it was simply a couple of hapless flies, foolishly having tried to get a sugary drink and summarily drowning. Nothing that unusual, especially if the cup had been sitting there that long. However, upon closer inspection, it revealed not two flies, but one. One fly cut in half with surgical precision. Eyes widening, he dashed towards the corner that the square resided on the other side of, the empty, empty, empty, streets and houses suddenly taking on a far more macabre turn._

_The sight that greeted him was something he would never forget._

_The piles of bodies, haphazardly stacked and mangled._

_The dried writing on the wall, spelling out a warning meant for him, something these people shouldn't have died for._

_And in front of all the carnage was his loyal friend, placed so that she was leaning up against the fountain in the center of the square. It had undoubtedly the town's pride and joy in such a barren desert._

_Even in death, her face stilled smiled._

_However, it had taken a far more sinister turn. He was at least slightly relieved to know that her death had at least been quick; the bullet hole at her temple had barely bled at all. But the force of it's impact had distorted her features, blowing everything out of proportion, the smile turning into something akin of a grimace. She had probably tried to help her sempai, and Knives was certainly not going to allow such a thing._

_He walked up to her still form and closed her eyes._

_The message read, **THEIR END IS NEAR.**_

_Tears ran down his cheeks as he sobbed silently, cursing the birds circling far above him in patterns far to complicated for him to ever comprehend._

- - - - -

Wolfwood stared at Millie.

Millie stared at Wolfwood.

Now here were two people who were certainly not expecting to see one another for awhile.

Two shades of blue met one another, dark and light, mixing and dancing together, their outlines blurred.

Millie slowly sank into her beloved's broad chest, closing her eyes as sobs shook her body, feeling his arms wrap around her and his own tears dampen her hair.

_Am I so wrong as to feel so much joy at having her here? If I truly loved her, I would be devastated at her life being cut short like this. And yet… I don't think… I've ever been this happy before…_

_Nicolas… Sempai… Vash-san… I think I understand now, Nicolas, why you were so sad to leave so much undone… At least I have you…_

- - - - -

A/N: Thank you so much for all the wonderful reviews, from: **Crunchy Snape, LilBrokenDolly, Erin Elric, **(who seems to have put me on every conceivable favorites list, grins, bows, and hugs) **nania, **and particularly, **AINE OF KNOCKAINE,** who was the only person to review on my first chapter, and also reviewed my little VxM one-shot from ages ago. Additional thanks to my shadow readers, **Litrouke**, who put me on their favorite list and must have forgotten to hit the review button, and **Gouf The Troll**, who decided to put me on story alert, so obviously they thought this much have been worth a second look. Muchas Gracias, Amigos! Virtual steak dinners served by babbling brooks for you all!

Well, I didn't leave too much of a cliffy there. I think I was being fairly kind. Believe me, there is a plot here, and you're going to be seeing more of it in the next chapter. Sorry this took so long, I kinda got distracted. I finally got my hands on a copy of Trigun Maximum #8, on my **third** bookstore run. Surely you lot can understand- right? You'll also notice I finally woke up and realized that in the manga Nicolas' name is not spelled with an "h" in it. If I have time I'll go back and correct it in previous chapters. I kinda doubt it though. Oh, and "fargin'" that's something my math teacher says all the time. I always wondered why Vash didn't get hot in that coat, and leather suit, in the desert.

Also, if you say nothing else in your reviews, could you at least comment if people are in character or not? A good OOC is good once in awhile, if it's a parody, (E.G. My personal favorite, Legato watching Martha Stuart while eating hot dogs and lounging in cookie monster boxers which _just happen_ to match his hair.) but in something this serious I'm really going for IC people. I'm especially concerned about Wolfwood, he's been really hard, because he really had a change of heart just before he died, and is in a bit of a hard spot here.

Can't you all see Wolfwood in that armchair? He really is a pretty funny guy, and if I do one thing here, I want to make sure this doesn't get excessively grim before it ABSOLUTELY has to. Thus, the nonsense below.

Special Extra Scene!

**In December:**

Meryl: (wielding cattle- ahem, **thomas, **prod.) Vash, walk.

Vash: (eyes prod nervously) Y-y-yes ma'am! (runs)

Meryl: (narrows eyes, pushes button on remote that she has conjured out of nowhere) You're not going anywhere, tongari!

Vash: (runs into invisible fence and falls flat on back)

**At the Office:**

Vash: (glaring) I'm not cattle, short girl.

Meryl: (raises eyebrow) Really? (shocks)

Vash: GGAAHHH! (twitches) MERYL!

Meryl: Hey! You called me by my name! Good boy! (hugs)

Boss: (opens up Vash's mouth despite his protests) Fine piece of cattle you have here, Meryl. Been taking good care of it, I see. I believe a pay raise may be in order. Seems a bit ornery though. Have you tried barbed wire?

Meryl: (blushes) The silly thing ripped the seat of his pants out…

Vash: (twitch, twitch) "It?" "Thing?" C'mon, I may not be human, but REALLY…


End file.
